at the ceiling, nearly tripping over a stack of holocubes. There were things hanging up there that she’d never consider hanging from a ceiling; whole computer systems, a fish tank filled with murky water.
The front of the house was furnished with stained cushions, a threadbare beanbag and a bucket seat from a levcar. Chango flopped down in the levcar seat. Helix just stood there, staring as Hyper's hands flew with soldering iron and vacuum tube. He was right, he was done in just a sec.
“Hi,” he said as he suddenly stepped around the table, and then, “Hi!” as he noticed Helix.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hyper, this his Helix. Helix, Hyper, a very old, dear friend of mine.”
“Hey, Helix,” he said, dodging forward to shake her hand. Helix took his hand in her upper right one.
“Thanks for lending me your transceiver.”
“Hey, no problem. Glad to see you’re doing all right, have a seat.” He pointed her to the beanbag. “Can I take your coat?” he added.
She looked up at him, “No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Chango, “it’s fucking eighty degrees out today. Aren’t you hot?”
She wasn’t hot, not really, but the lining of the coat was sticking to her arms and the back of her neck. And she did feel sort of stupid wearing it, when everyone else was in t-shirts and shorts. She looked carefully at Hyper. Chango had said he was a sport, but she could find nothing out of the ordinary about him except for his bizarre taste in home furnishings. “What’s different about you?” she asked.
“My metabolism. It runs high. I have to eat a lot of small meals and I don’t sleep too much.”
She was disappointed. She’d been hoping for nictating membranes or retractable ear flaps, at least a tail. It must have shown.
“I know, it’s boring, but it’s the only mutation I’ve got,” he said. She nodded in silence, and as casually as she could manage, slipped the raincoat from her shoulders. It felt good to stretch her arms and feel the air against her skin.
She watched Hyper for his reaction; saw his eyes travel down her body and up again to her face. He was smiling. “Now that’s a significant mutation. Do you have complete use of them?”
“Yeah,” she said, sliding into the chair, “but my bottom hands are better at fine work, and they don’t really lift up to the sides too well, top ones go three-sixty degrees, though.” Helix crisscrossed her hands about her knees and rocked self-consciously.
“That is so cool looking.”
“Thanks,”
“You know,” said Hyper, “She needs to meet Orielle.”
“Not Orielle,” said Chango.
“Who’s Orielle?” said Helix.
“Oh, just somebody who would make you fade right into the woodwork,” said Hyper.
“She’s a drug dealer,” said Chango.
“And a drug inventor, don’t forget about that,” said Hyper.
“Yeah, but she still makes her bread and butter by selling blast in this community. It keeps the vatdivers down, keeps them from doing anything about the company. They just do as they’re told, and collect their pay and use it to get blasted, that’s all.”
“It’s not just the blast, Chango,” said Hyper, “besides, you used to do blast, before...”
“Yeah, but I don’t any more, do I? And you know why, too.”
“You always say Ada didn’t dive blasted. Don’t you believe that?”
Chango glared at him, and finally stood up, to walk past them and stare at something hanging from the ceiling. “Fuck you, Hyper,” she growled softly.
Hyper shrugged and looked at Helix. “She’s a bundle of contradictions, she is. Can I get you something?
Water, Cool-Aid, Chromium 50?"
“Water, please.”
Chango, still standing, still staring at the ceiling, shook her head. “You’re going to regret it.”
“You want anything, Chango?” asked Hyper, heading towards the back of the house.
“Only your immortal soul,” she said, and sat back down in the lev seat. Hyper returned in an
The front of the house was furnished with stained cushions, a threadbare beanbag and a bucket seat from a levcar. Chango flopped down in the levcar seat. Helix just stood there, staring as Hyper's hands flew with soldering iron and vacuum tube. He was right, he was done in just a sec.
“Hi,” he said as he suddenly stepped around the table, and then, “Hi!” as he noticed Helix.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hyper, this his Helix. Helix, Hyper, a very old, dear friend of mine.”
“Hey, Helix,” he said, dodging forward to shake her hand. Helix took his hand in her upper right one.
“Thanks for lending me your transceiver.”
“Hey, no problem. Glad to see you’re doing all right, have a seat.” He pointed her to the beanbag. “Can I take your coat?” he added.
She looked up at him, “No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Chango, “it’s fucking eighty degrees out today. Aren’t you hot?”
She wasn’t hot, not really, but the lining of the coat was sticking to her arms and the back of her neck. And she did feel sort of stupid wearing it, when everyone else was in t-shirts and shorts. She looked carefully at Hyper. Chango had said he was a sport, but she could find nothing out of the ordinary about him except for his bizarre taste in home furnishings. “What’s different about you?” she asked.
“My metabolism. It runs high. I have to eat a lot of small meals and I don’t sleep too much.”
She was disappointed. She’d been hoping for nictating membranes or retractable ear flaps, at least a tail. It must have shown.
“I know, it’s boring, but it’s the only mutation I’ve got,” he said. She nodded in silence, and as casually as she could manage, slipped the raincoat from her shoulders. It felt good to stretch her arms and feel the air against her skin.
She watched Hyper for his reaction; saw his eyes travel down her body and up again to her face. He was smiling. “Now that’s a significant mutation. Do you have complete use of them?”
“Yeah,” she said, sliding into the chair, “but my bottom hands are better at fine work, and they don’t really lift up to the sides too well, top ones go three-sixty degrees, though.” Helix crisscrossed her hands about her knees and rocked self-consciously.
“That is so cool looking.”
“Thanks,”
“You know,” said Hyper, “She needs to meet Orielle.”
“Not Orielle,” said Chango.
“Who’s Orielle?” said Helix.
“Oh, just somebody who would make you fade right into the woodwork,” said Hyper.
“She’s a drug dealer,” said Chango.
“And a drug inventor, don’t forget about that,” said Hyper.
“Yeah, but she still makes her bread and butter by selling blast in this community. It keeps the vatdivers down, keeps them from doing anything about the company. They just do as they’re told, and collect their pay and use it to get blasted, that’s all.”
“It’s not just the blast, Chango,” said Hyper, “besides, you used to do blast, before...”
“Yeah, but I don’t any more, do I? And you know why, too.”
“You always say Ada didn’t dive blasted. Don’t you believe that?”
Chango glared at him, and finally stood up, to walk past them and stare at something hanging from the ceiling. “Fuck you, Hyper,” she growled softly.
Hyper shrugged and looked at Helix. “She’s a bundle of contradictions, she is. Can I get you something?
Water, Cool-Aid, Chromium 50?"
“Water, please.”
Chango, still standing, still staring at the ceiling, shook her head. “You’re going to regret it.”
“You want anything, Chango?” asked Hyper, heading towards the back of the house.
“Only your immortal soul,” she said, and sat back down in the lev seat. Hyper returned in an
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